Her Rescue, His Reparations
by LukeAndLorelai Brucas Fan
Summary: He got them out of hell, now all he needs to do is make sure they stay alive long enough to enjoy the new life they're going to have. Sequel to EmeraldButtercup's "Redemption"
1. Prologue

AN: So, basically, when I read "Redemption by Emeraldbuttercup, my review was just a rambling synopsis of what was supposed to happen once the onneshot ended. Turns out, I was the only one who guessed correctly what she'd had in mind. After months of working on it, I finally have the finished product from those first few conversations. You should definitely go and read Redemption, then come back to this. Trust me. And don't forget to review...

o.o.o.o.o.

When the suffocating darkness lifted, he stood on a dark narrow road, lined on either side with small cottages. A light snow was falling, that, along with the events that had led up to this moment, sent a chill through him. The weight in his arms reminded him that there was no time to simply stand around out in the open, and so, bending against the cold, to protect his charge as best he could, he began to walk.

Until the moment he saw it, he hadn't known exactly what he was looking for, hadn't even been sure why he'd picked this destination. But then it was there, the dark mass that stood at the very end of a row of houses.

The Potter's cottage.

Despite its having been empty for the past sixteen years, it looked remarkably solid. Trailing ivy covered the bulk of the structure, the verdant leaves showing up brightly in the pristine snow. There was a large hole in the outer wall on the second level, and the windows gave the impression of sad empty, blank eyes gazing out at the world that continued to move on as the house stood still, frozen in time. Otherwise, it looked as sturdy as any other house along the lane.

The late hour and the season meant that anyone with any sense was inside, tucked up in a warm bed, but he stood staring, oblivious to the cold wind, the snow seeping into his shoes.

This was the house in which the Potter's had lived, that, in another life, they would have continued to live, in which their son would have grown up. The garden, now overgrown with weeds, would have once flourished with beautiful flowers and practical herbs he was sure. Even Draco had heard of Lily Evans' skill at potion making. The house would have been filled with happy laughter - so different to his own home, in which all emotion was suppressed, whether it were a happy or sad one.

The house was so far removed from what it once was. And that hole… that had to have been Potter's room, he was positive. It had to be the spot where, all those years ago, everything had gone so horribly wrong…

A certainty came over Draco, almost as if someone was drawing a cloak about his shoulders. This was the safest place in the world to hide from the Dark Lord. He couldn't possibly think to return to the place that had borne witness to his greatest downfall. For as long as they kept hidden within the house and refrained from saying the Taboo they would be safe. At the very least, they would have shelter for the night in which he could work out the next move.

The peaceful, silent night was ripped apart by a bark-like laugh, coming from somewhere beyond the row of houses to his left and Draco fought the urge to cry out. As a pair of voices carried on towards him, he recovered his senses, and shifting the bundle in his arms, raised his wand to silence the rusted old gate before reaching out to grasp it. His touch seemed to evoke some kind of magic - a sign was rapidly rising from the ground.

_On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,_

_Lily and James Potter lost their lives._

_Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever_

_to have survived the Killing Curse._

_This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left_

_in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters_

_and as a reminder of the violence_

_that tore apart their family._

All around the neatly lettered words were messages of encouragement to Potter, some written in everlasting ink, others carved into the wood. Draco felt as if he was viewing something he'd never been meant to see, and so he pulled his hand away, after giving a quick push.

The gate didn't make a sound, as he'd hoped, and as he walked, slowly and carefully up the overgrown garden path, he flicked his wand over his shoulder to close it once more.

Inside, a thick layer of dust covered everything. There was an abandoned pram, pushed against the wall in the hallway, a bowl of ancient candy wrappers on the coffee table in the sitting room, a moth-eaten blanket draped over the back of the sofa.

Very gently, with more care than he could remember having done anything before, Draco Malfoy placed Hermione Granger on the old sofa, and pulled the thin blanket down to cover her, before conjuring half a dozen more to wrap her up in and keep her warm throughout the night. Her face was screwed up in a grimace, as if a part of her was still at the Manor, still at the mercy of his aunt Bellatrix, but otherwise she looked comfortable enough.

Tearing his eyes away from her limp form, Draco turned to the empty fireplace. Lifting his wand -putting his shaking hands down to the cold, though he knew that wasn't the only reason he was so unsteady- he muttered a quick incantation. Instantly flames roared to life in the grate. Weary grey eyes reflected the dancing flames and he brushed his silvery bangs out of the way, as he tried to organise his confused thoughts. For a moment, he lost himself in the flickering light and the heat that flooded the room as everything that had happened in the last few hours fought for a place at the front of his mind.

For five whole months, people had been searching for Potter. For five months, he had somehow managed to evade every single Death Eater, Ministry official, Snatcher and Dementor that the Dark Lord set upon him. But then finally the Boy Who Lived had slipped up and the Death Eaters caught him, along with his two sidekicks. When he, Draco, had been asked to come forward and identify the prisoners, he wanted to flee. He'd never liked the trio, bunch of do-gooders that they were, but he didn't want to be the one responsible for handing them over to the Dark Lord. He couldn't do it. His father was ready to call for Voldemort, as soon as they were identified, but he couldn't do it. As much as his parents urged, something else just as powerful and insistent was screaming at him to lie.

Lie, even if it meant that he would be tortured for it. It didn't matter that lying would most likely get him killed.

Draco could not condemn the trio, no matter what would become of him. Whether he lived or died meant nothing if the three of them didn't go free. They were the only hope the wizarding world had of salvation. The only thing that stood between Voldemort coming to full power was Potter and his two friends. Whatever mission they were on, they needed to complete it in order to stop the evil and he had to help them, ever so slightly, to get away.

Lie. Save them and surrender to the death that was rightfully his. He deserved it, after all, after the things he had done. He just had to lie and make it possible for them to get out. Nothing mattered beyond that.

And so Draco had done his best, evading questions and refusing to give definitive answers. But of course that couldn't be the end of it. Because it was at that moment, Bellatrix saw the sword of Gryffindor.

He'd always imagined that there would be a great sense of satisfaction in hearing Granger beg for mercy, pleading for freedom. If it couldn't be him forcing those cries out of her, he'd told himself, it would be enough to just be present while she experienced excruciating pain. But as he listened to her screaming that she didn't know anything, it was all Draco could do to keep himself from joining her.

With every yelp that escaped her, he wanted to scream too. Every shriek tore at his very core and it took the greatest effort to bite back his own pleas to make it stop. No one could deny that she was in great agony.

Every time she opened her mouth, every sob she let loose, forced a thought to repeat within his mind.

He wanted it to end. Needed it to be over. Now.

For exactly thirty-seven minutes he listened to her, plead with his mental aunt. She was sobbing that she had never been into her Gringotts vault, that the sword was a fake. Her ability to keep up the ruse while being so sufficiently abused was uncanny. Every minute or so Weasley screamed her name, louder and louder each time from the dungeon below.

Draco had retreated to the kitchen, trying to distance himself from it all and organise his thoughts, but it didn't do any good. He knew that he would still hear her, no matter where in the house he went. And even if he were to leave, if it were permitted, the sounds of her pain would continue to haunt him, no matter how many miles he put between them.

Then the fight broke out. Potter and Weasley had escaped somehow, and a battle ensued in the drawing room. In a moment of desperation, Draco sent Greyback flying across the room, away from Granger. He couldn't stand by and watch it happen again. He couldn't allow another innocent person to die for this cause he wasn't even sure he'd ever really believed in. The house-elf, Dobby, appeared then, and Draco found himself staring into Potter's bright green eyes from across the room, and holding Granger in his arms and-

All of these memories flitted across his mind in a matter of seconds, before he tore his gaze from the fire and turned back to face the broken and battered girl, unconscious on the sofa. She had stopped shivering by now, but she still looked as if she was seeing and experiencing horrific things. From all he'd heard that night, he knew that she would be severely injured. Draco stepped forward and knelt beside the couch, carefully pulling the blankets away. Steeling himself for what he was about to see, Draco also removed her jacket.

Granger's left arm lay at an awkward angle and he balked at what he saw there. Grey eyes widened in horror at the wound displayed before him. His mind instantly flashed back to a moment that occurred in their second year.

"_No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood,"_ he'd spat at her, surrounded by the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams.

It had been a miracle he'd survived that afternoon considering the entire Gryffindor team looked set to murder. His own teammates managed to hold them back until Weasley cursed himself and started vomiting slugs, and then all attention was diverted away from him and what he'd said, at least for the moment. The memory caused him no pleasure now as it had done in the past. He wanted to take it back along with a thousand other sins, but it wasn't possible. His only hope now was attempting to repair some of the damage that had been done.

Though Draco knew of healing spells that would help with Granger's smaller injuries, he was unsure of how to deal with the larger ones. It had only been recently that he'd read of this particular branch of magic, on late nights when he refused to go to sleep. And while he had repeatedly read passages on what to do, he had never performed or even seen any of it done before, save for a few visits to the Hospital Wing, but this was in no way the same thing.

Using the lesser magic, and desperately hoping he remembered it correctly, Draco focused on the smallest of her injuries for the time being. Minor cuts and bruises faded as he stood over her, wand out, muttering spells he'd only read of. The deeply scratched, hateful word on her arm remained. It looked to be growing more intense as the rest of her skin healed around it, and Draco felt bile rise in his throat. As he continued to stare, forcing down the sickness, he realised it was only his guilt magnifying it.

Suddenly he couldn't see, for the blinding pain that seared from his own arm. The Dark Mark was on fire.

"He knows," Draco croaked, gritting his teeth against the agony he felt. The Dark Lord, must have just arrived at the Manor, and discovered that they had lost not only Potter, but that Draco was gone as well.

_He's going to kill me, _Draco thought, his breathing shallow.

There was no doubt in his mind, if he slipped up now, if he were caught, he would surely be killed for his betrayal. Switching sides at this crucial moment, saving a Muggle-born so closely connected to Potter - these crimes would result in Draco's former master killing him personally, rather than send another of his minions to do it.

The burning was so intense. Draco clenched his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms, desperate to feel anything other than the Dark Lord's fury. The skin breaking in his palms was a tiny relief from the scorching that had filled his arm and seemed to be travelling throughout his entire body. He couldn't breathe. It was as if the flames that engulfed his arm were spreading to every other part of him, even his lungs. Not for the first time he wished it would end, for his life to be over so he didn't have to endure anymore.

And then, after what felt like hours -hours in which he was tormented by hot pokers and hellish fires that felt like razor sharp tongues- the pain began to recede. Gasping for breath, knowing the pain wouldn't completely go away unless he was to answer the call, Draco scrabbled around on his knees, searching for his wand. It was tolerable, he decided, helpful even. At the very least, he was confident that the pain would help him stay alert. Glancing down, he saw the Mark was darker against his pale skin than ever before. Hastily pulling down his sleeve to cover it, he shakily climbed to his feet and resumed healing Granger once more.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Light was beginning to filter in through the filthy window that looked out on to the yard. Draco hadn't slept all night, but had stayed beside the sofa, on a stiff chair he'd brought in from the kitchen, muttering spell after spell, watching as Granger appeared to return to her normal physical state.

A sound outside had Draco whip around, his wand clenched in his hand and pointed at the window ready to Obliviate whoever had stumbled upon their hiding place so severely they wouldn't even remember which planet they lived on until he realised what he was hearing.

A bird sat on a branch so close to the house it would be in the room if not for the glass. Breathing a sigh of relief at the sight, he allowed himself to relax slightly and return to his task. As Draco turned to face her once more, he saw that Granger was beginning to stir, finally.

He had spent the entire night alternating between the hope that she would soon open her eyes, and that she would remain blissfully unconscious until Potter worked out where they were and came to collect her.

While her eyelids slowly began to lift, he stepped back, into the last remaining shadows in the room and quickly cast a Disillusionment charm upon himself.

She would be frightened, he knew. And his presence… it would only make things worse. He needed to assure her that she was safe, that he was there to protect her and not a threat, before revealing who he was. _It's better this way,_ he told himself. Even though he knew she would be alarmed not being able to see her companion, he was certain she'd prefer that than waking up from all she'd been through the night before and having his face be the first thing she saw.

It was another few minutes before she was able to open her eyes fully. Minutes in which she moaned in pain. His heart gave an uncomfortable tug as Granger even began to cry, as, he guessed, memories of what had happened to her the night before began to surface. Praying that she wouldn't recognise his voice in her current state, Draco knelt next to her and began to whisper in her ear, his breath disturbing loose hairs that tickled her cheek.

"You're alright. Everything is alright. You're safe here, I promise. Please, don't cry." She was becoming hysterical; more details must have been developing. His voice becoming constricted -watching her this way was almost worse than the things he'd heard the night before and he felt a sickening loathing aimed at himself and his entire family- he reached out and stroked her brow, continuing to whisper words of comfort as his brows drew together in worry. When he had repeated himself for the third time, her tears began to ease up slightly. He watched a frown crease her face, while she looked around for the owner of the soothing voice.

"W-who are… Who?" her voice was hoarse, all the screaming and crying she had done the night before probably made it raw and painful to even attempt speech now. Instantly Draco stopped speaking and hastily withdrew his hand as if he'd been scalded. It was one thing to soothe her while she'd cried and only been half conscious, but he couldn't risk her recognising his voice. What would she think of him? How much could she truly remember?

How much would she blame on him?

"W-water," she rasped as, he repeated his earlier words of comfort, and used Legilimency to press them towards her. Conjuring a jug and two glasses, he poured some for her and held it to her lips. She stared at the place where the glass hovered, as if thinking if she looked long enough the Charm obscuring him would fade. Draco knew, however, that he was safe until he removed the Charm himself.

"Thank you." After a third glass, her voice became clearer and stronger. Tapping the jug to refill it he took a drink himself and only then realised how thirsty he was. And how hungry.

"Who's there? Who are you?" she asked as he felt a growl rumble through his gut. Again Draco only dared use Legilimency.

'_I won't hurt you. Please know you're safe_.'

"Where are-" Potter and Weasley's names were on the tip of Granger's tongue, that was obvious. She had spent months with only those two boys for company, her best friends. Suddenly being without them was probably just as frightening as finding herself alone with a disembodied voice, if not more so. But she knew the danger of telling a stranger who had just performed magic that she had been with them. That was good. She hadn't allowed herself to say the names, meaning she was being cautious. That was very good. Unable to find a way around it, Draco consented to speak once more.

"They're safe," he told her, in a tone he hoped was gentle while attempting a Manchester accent to disguise himself further. He wanted to explain properly, but didn't trust himself to be able to keep the voice right.

"They're safe," he repeated.

"And…" she was trying to sit up, but fell back against the couch as pain ripped through her. Panting with the effort of not screaming, she squeezed her eyes shut for a few moments before finally being able to continue. "They left me with you? Do we… Do we know you?"

_I'm going to find food,_ Draco thought, projecting his thoughts to her once more, desperate to get out of the room. He wanted to remind her to stay still and rest, but refused to open his mouth again.

Rushing from the room, amid her protests, and repeated questions, he flung himself outside into the bright white snow. Leaning against the front door, barely able to hold himself up, he let out a groan as he tiredly ran a hand up over his face and through his hair. How was he supposed to do this? How could he keep her safe, heal the wounds that were inflicted by his own flesh and blood, all the while keeping his identity from her?

And how was he supposed to find Potter? There had been no time to discuss a meeting time or place, how was he supposed to get her back to them?

o.o.o.o.o.o

TBC


	2. Chapter 1

Everything hurt.

Hermione had never felt such pain before, in her life. She could feel the work of Bellatrix Lestrange all over her body and there was a burning sensation in her abdomen each time she tried to move. She was certain that she had at least one fractured -if not broken– rib. But these pains were nothing, compared to the terror she was currently experiencing. Harry and Ron were gone. Who knew where they were now, and they had left her with someone who refused to reveal themself or even speak to her.

For a while, just after she had regained consciousness, she thought she could hear something, more inside her head than out, but somehow, she was certain, a voice had been telling her that she was safe, that everything would be all right.

Him, it was a him. the voice that had soothed her in those first painful, terrifying moments had definitely belonged to a male, Hermione was certain. She just wished she could navigate through the fog that clouded her mind, long enough to try to recognise it.

_Maybe I'm losing my mind,_ she thought, staring at the water jug that had hovered for a few moments, before the glass touched her lips. _Maybe I'm still at the Manor, and Bellatrix is doing this to me. Maybe I'll never escape that hell. _But even as she thought it, Hermione knew that couldn't be true. If Bellatrix still had her she wouldn't be hearing any words of comfort, she'd be in a hell worse than anything she'd experienced before. She also knew Harry and Ron would never leave her to endure that torture. They would do everything in their power to get her out of there, as she would do for them. Whatever this was, it wasn't the work of that vile woman.

"Delirious…" Hermione muttered to herself, as heavy eyelids overpowered her desire to think through everything and work out what was going on. _I must be delirious… _she could feel an echo of the warm soothing touch on her brow, though her saviour had long since stormed out. _More rest… Things will make more sense when I've had more rest…_

o.o.o.o.o.o.o

By the time Draco returned from his search of the town to find food, Granger was again moving fitfully in her sleep. Resolving not to wake her, he instead set about assembling some sort of meal for the two of them, while simultaneously trying to remember how to brew a sleeping draught. It would be better for her recovery, he decided if she could just sleep, uninterrupted. And if that also happened to save him from her questions and anxiety, it could only help.

Never having cooked before in his whole live, Draco was concerned that he might ruin even the simple porridge he managed to slip off the grocery store shelf, but he had the vaguest memory of watching a house elf prepare a batch once when he was a child and attempted to replicate it.

Granger woke again as he poured a bowl of oats out from the cauldron on the living room fire. He could tell from the smell that he at least hadn't burnt it. She tried to sit up again, but it looked as if it was still causing her pain, so Draco hurried over to support her, helping her lean against a few cushions he conjured from thin air.

"Will you tell me who you are, yet?" she asked as he sat in front of her, holding out a spoonful of porridge. Despite the fact that she couldn't see him, he shook his head, and just pushed the spoon further forward.

"Fine." she snapped. Glaring at a spot about a foot from his left ear, she consented to take the food and allowed him to feed her half a bowl. By the time he got to eat some himself he realised that even though it didn't smell awful the food was rubbery and in desperate need of improvement. Forcing himself to finish a second bowl –he was starving, but the food was so terrible, he wasn't sure if he didn't prefer an empty stomach– he realised she was asleep again, and he set about looking around the house, to see how well protected they were.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o

It felt like days, but Hermione couldn't really be sure how much time had passed since she had been snatched away from the clutches of the madwoman who claimed she'd been in to her Gringotts vault. At some point, she woke up not on the couch she had so often found herself on upon waking to her invisible saviour, but in a bed.

Each time she had awoken, she was filled with anxiety, unsure of whether she was safe or not. Her dreams melded with the things she did know were true, keeping her in a constant state of confusion. When she first found herself in the bed, panic flared worse than it had since she first woke in the strange house.

"Hello?" she called, her voice still croaky from limited use after such abuse. "Is there anyone here? Hello?" if it wasn't for the thick coating of dust on the floorboards, she probably wouldn't have noticed the approach of her unseen nursemaid. But as it was, she watched as a set of footprints traced a path from the chair in the corner, to the side of the bed on which she lay.

A sleepy sigh escaped her, as she realised her mysterious protector was close by, and her confused panic began to melt away. She didn't know why, but despite not knowing his identity, his presence made her feel safe. Relaxing slightly she looked to where she hoped her saviour's face was and began to ask her questions again.

"Who are you?" Every time she woke, they went through this same routine. She asked her questions -who was it that was helping her, where were they, where were Ron and Harry, when would she see them again?- And even though each time he remained silent, she felt as if answers were being whispered inside her own mind. Hermione was becoming increasingly frustrated with this method of communication, not having heard another voice since the first morning she woke up, if, in fact that had been real.

"I demand you answer me. I've had enough of this mystery and concealment. If you don't answer my questions right now I… I'll-" Hermione knew she had nothing to threaten this person with, no way to really extract information that wasn't going to be freely given.

But amazingly a piece of parchment hung in the air.

Snatching at it greedily, Hermione's eyes tore over it quickly, drinking in all the words as if they were the secrets of the universe.

_I'm sorry about all of the secrecy and confusion. I wish I could tell you who I am, but that isn't possible. Not now._

_All I can say right now is that you are safe._

_No harm will come to you while I'm here, I swear it. Your friends are safe. They escaped just before we did. I cannot say when you'll see them again, but I promise I'll do all I can to get you back to them, once you're well enough._

_You're injuries were quite severe. Not only did you sustain cuts and bruising, but your leg was broken and I believe you cracked a rib. As I don't have any training in the area, I've done all I can to heal you, but I'm afraid the rest of your injuries will just have to mend themselves over time._

_I've been feeding you a sleeping potion, so that you can rest longer and easier and feel less of the pain._

_It's now been almost a week._

_I've placed protective wards around the house, so no one can find us and we have some food. Please believe me when I tell you that you are safe in this place. Know that if I could tell you more, I would but it's for your own safety that you know no more than is necessary right now._

"You… you rescued me?" Hermione asked, her voice trembling as she stared at the air in front of her and her hand clutching the parchment fell to her side. She was desperate to discover who her saviour was. Could he be a member of the Order of the Phoenix? An Auror, maybe? He had saved her from a fate worse than death, there was no way she could feel anything other than complete gratitude towards him, why did he hide his identity from her? Reaching out to try to find him, Hermione heard retreating footsteps as he evaded her searching hand.

"Wait, please! Don't go," she cried urgently, not wanting to be left alone. Drawing her hand back, she dropped it to her lap. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to, to scare you…" Was that what she'd done? It seemed crazy that she could be the one to frighten someone right now. "Who are you?" she asked again. "Why don't you speak to me?"

Silence followed her words. Sighing in frustration, Hermione glanced down at the parchment in her lap.

"What does this mean?" she demanded, brandishing the parchment. "Will you never speak to me, is that what I'm to take from this?"

Again, no response came and she heaved a sigh, feeling a slight twinge in her rib cage. Gasping, she brushed the note aside and watched it flutter to the floor. While the pain had lessened a great deal, she was still slightly tender, and couldn't help but wonder more insistently who it was who was taking care of her. They weren't a true healer, but they clearly knew what they were doing.

"I want to listen to the radio," she announced, a sudden inspiration occurring to her. If she couldn't be with the boys, she could at least join the rest of the resistance in following Harry's possible trail on Potterwatch to learn how they were getting on.

_I'll see what I can do_ appeared on the reverse side of the parchment that now lay on her bed once more.

"Thank you," came her perfunctory response. Irritated with herself for not being able to hold out in her anger, Hermione shifted her pillows slightly and moved to lie back down.

It was then that she saw the wound on her arm for the first time.

The word _Mudblood_ flashed up at her and she looked down at her forearm in horror. A sound escaped her –a mixture between a sob and a gag- as she stared at the hateful scar. The carving in her skin appeared to be the only wound left from her visit to Malfoy Manor.

"Oh… God that's just…" she felt violently ill suddenly. Sickened. An urge to reach for her wand and curse off her own arm seized her for an instant but then she tore her eyes away and looked back to where she assumed her saviour to be standing.

"You couldn't heal this?" she asked, her voice wavering. She didn't want to be upset by this, but it was impossible not to be.

For the past six years she'd been proud of her Muggle-born status. She had strived to prove that just because you came from pure wizard's blood, didn't automatically mean you were better than everyone else. She had been equal, if not better than most of the pure-bloods in her year. But this… this marked her as dirty.

Unclean.

Unworthy of the education and the life she had believed she had a right to for all these years.

_I'm sorry, no. My magic doesn't seem to work on that. But I'll keep trying. I'm sure I'll find a way. Or perhaps you'll have more success at St Mungo's when you're up to travelling. Surely they would have a way to remove it._

These words wrote themselves across the page below the last sentence, and Hermione's eyes, followed on as the quill appeared to balance its self and glide across the page. She was reminded of Reeta Skeeter's Quick Quotes Quill, but was disappointed to realise the handwriting wasn't familiar at all.

"It doesn't matter," she muttered. "At least I'm still alive. We'll all be scarred by the end of this," she added, thinking of George and his missing ear; Bill's wounds from Greyback; Ron's arms, still with feint marks from the brains that attacked him at the end of their fifth year and Harry. Harry with the scar on his forehead that he had worn every day of his life since he was one year old and his parents were taken from him.

They all wore their scars with a kind of indifference. Those wounds came from each of them having done something good and heroic, something they could be proud of, but none of them ever chose to draw attention to it. If they could learn to live with their scars, she could live with this.

"You said there was food?" she asked after a few moments before watching the door open as if of its own accord. Whoever it was had left. For a fleeting moment Hermione thought she didn't want them to come back, but then she realised that was a lie. If she had to be without her best friends, at least she could have this mysterious person with her, even if they refused to speak.

Being completely alone was something she didn't want to face. This alternative wasn't too much better, but it would have to do.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Three days later, Hermione felt enough strength to leave her room, and attempted a trek down the stairs. She woke with a desire to explore the house, to try to decipher where she was. But once she reached the bottom of the staircase it was all she could manage to stagger to the sofa. A quick 'Scurgify' aimed at the large window after catching her breathe, allowed more light to flood the room as the dust and grime was cleared away. Outside it was a lovely clear day, the light reflecting off the snow, filtered in, giving enough of an idea of the surroundings. As she sat, leaning forwards a little to gaze out the window, she realised with a jolt that she knew exactly where she was.

"This is the Potter's cottage," she gasped.

And sure enough when she looked to the mantle, there was a collection of photo frames there. Summoning three of them to her, one by one, Hermione drank in the images behind the dirty glass.

One was of a group of four boys, all wearing matching black robes and messing with each other's hair. A girl stood in the middle, smiling with obvious effort, annoyance clearly close to the surface. Hermione recognised the Potter's just as easily as she did Sirius, Remus and their former friend the reason Harry no longer had parents… Peter Pettigrew.

The second was of a baby boy with black hair and bright green eyes, wrapped in a blanket and squirming happily, nestled in a pair of strong looking arms.

The last was of Lily and James on what appeared to be their wedding day. They looked so happy, blissfully unaware of anything but each other. Despite the frightening climate in which they must have been living, they still managed to find a moment to be young, happy and carefree. Knowing that she sat in the very house in which her best friend had lived his first year, the same house she had stood outside of just a few months ago was somehow, oddly comforting.

Hermione's thoughts drifted back to her mysterious saviour, the guardian angel who had delivered her from such terrible torture. She was a smart girl, she knew that if this person truly was to be trusted they would have revealed themselves by now, but she couldn't think of that just now. The effort of getting down the stairs and performing magic had exhausted the small store of strength she had. Her discovery fortified her feint belief that she was safe. Hermione's eyelids grew heavy as she curled up on the old sofa, clutching one of the cushions.

_o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o_

_She should be dead. She needed to die so that it would stop. The pain… it was all too much. She was being ripped apart, both mentally and physically. Every part of her was screaming as more and more tears were made; her entire being raged to fly apart, what wasn't feeling the brunt of the torment was frantic to separate from what was. How was anyone supposed to endure this agony and keep going?_

_From somewhere high above her, Hermione could hear the laughter. That high-pitched, evil, mad, laughter. And the taunting words,_

"_I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!"_

"_I'm going to have a little talk with this one. _Girl to girl._"_

"_What else did you take from my vault? WHAT ELSE?!"_

_There was the tearing of her skin, the ripping of her flesh. Her blood pooling beneath her. The white-hot burning and twisting of her insides- she needed it to end._

_She needed to die._

_NOW!_

"_No! Please… Please… I don't know… I don't- NO!"_

Draco flew from his chair as Granger began to scream. She was thrashing around in her bed, the sheets twisted around her in a sweaty mass. By the scant light of the moon, he could see her face contorted in pain, and knew she was back there, at the Manor, in Bellatrix's clutches once more. His heartbeat quickened watching her obvious pain and distress. Draco crouched above her, panic flashing in his stormy eyes.

"Wake up," he murmured, his hands reaching to still her movements. "Wake up. She can't hurt you. You're safe here, everything's alright. I've got you. Just open your eyes."

This hadn't happened before, not this bad. She'd had nightmares, he could see that, each night she was back in that place, but it had never gotten so bad that she screamed.

She was crying, though her eyes were squeezed shut. Tears ran down the sides of her face as she continued to squirm, trying to escape a tormenter only she could see.

"Please. Please. I don't- No! No, leave them. I'll tell you. I'll… they had nothing… No! Ron!"

Bolting upright, she released a long and loud scream that rivalled the sounds she had made that first night.

"It's ok," Draco told her, trying to be heard over her whimpers and quick breathing, as she shook with terror and tears. "You're safe now, it was only a nightmare. You're perfectly safe here. It's alright."

"She… She wouldn't… I couldn't make her listen. And-" she stopped blubbering mid-sentence. Tears shone in her wide eyes as the last moments of the nightmare became clearer to her. "Oh god…"

"Tell me what happened," he pleaded; he was shaking nearly as much as she was, but he didn't have time to think about that, he needed to calm her down before anyone noticed they were there. "That might help. Tell me about it and you'll feel better."

"I… I couldn't stop her. She… She took-" she sobbed. "She took Ron and- she was going to kill him. I know it. He was bleeding and he… I tried but, but…"

"That was only a dream," he reminded her, ignoring the sinking feeling he felt at her words, the terror in her voice when she spoke of her redheaded friend. "You remember? You know that's not the way it happened, don't you? Remember, I said that they got out of there? Your friends are perfectly safe."

She shifted and Draco realised he'd pulled her towards him, had wrapped his arms around her, in an effort to comfort her. He didn't realise he'd done it until she was out of his grasp though. She stared at him, at the hazy outline of him, tears still running down her cheeks.

"How…" she gulped, tried to clear her mind, "how do you know, why were you there? Why did you save me?"

"I… That isn't important."

"It is to me. It's very important. I need to know. Why?"

"I was…" he didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell her. Not the truth. But it wouldn't be fair to lie to her either. She needed to know. He had to give her something. "I was a prisoner there too." He finally explained. It was at least partly true. "Like you and your friends. I was a prisoner and I had no hope of escaping before you all arrived. It was because of them that I was able to imagine freedom for the first time in… a very long time. Before… Before you arrived I had resigned myself to live in that hell forever."

"I'm so sorr-"

"Do not apologise to me," he cut her off, harsher than he intended. "I don't deserve it," he added.

"But you-"

"I was trapped there, but I wasn't treated anywhere near as badly as you."

"Still… that woman, she's insane. She wouldn't have been much kinder with you, I'm sure," she ventured. "Can you… Can you tell me how you came to be there?"

"No. I'm sorry. I can't talk about that."

"No. I suppose… I understand that."

She moved as if reaching for his hand. He thought about moving away, but couldn't do it. She needed someone right now, and he was it. He couldn't very well deprive her of comfort just because he didn't think he deserved it in return.

And if he was perfectly honest, he didn't want to move away. He wanted to sit and hold her until she felt safe again. A warmth filled him, then, a surge of protectiveness towards her. More than anything Draco wanted to stay there, to remain close to her. Despite all he had done in the last week that one thought scared him above all else and he couldn't help his arm jerking away from her.

Instantly he regretted the move, as her outstretched hand brushed against his forearm, intensifying the dull burn that had plagued him since the night of their escape. It felt as if hot irons were being pressed into his skin, so intense was the pain that he doubled over on the bed. Black spots danced before his eyes as he cradled his arm to his chest, trying to ride the overwhelming agony.

"Bloody hell!" he gasped, biting his lip so hard, he tasted blood.

"I'm sorry!" Hermione squeaked, horrified. Vaguely he thought he could feel something against his back, a small, soft hand, rubbing comforting circles. Even through his agony, Draco had a sharp realisation –her hand was on him, _she_ was consoling _him_,- the thought sent chills down his spine. "Did I do-"

"It's fine," he rasped, gritting his teeth against the pain. His arm was on fire, worse possibly than it had ever been, save for the night he'd received the Mark. "I'm fine. Just a… It's just a cut."

"Would you like me to take a look at it? Maybe I could-"

"No. I'll be fine." He forced himself to sit up, to shift away from her touch. "I just need-"

"In my bag, I have… Oh no!" a look of horror came over her face. "My bag, where is it?"

"That little purple thing?"

"Yes. Do you have it?"

"It's downstairs."

"Oh, thank goodness." The bag looked like it could barely contain anything at all, her relief that it was still with her seemed ill proportioned. "I have essence of dittany in there. I'll come down with you and we can apply some to your arm if you'd like."

"No. Honestly, I'll be alright. Please, don't worry about me. What about you? Do you think you can get some sleep?" She gave a little laugh; a musical sound like nothing Draco had ever heard before. His heart lurched painfully at the beauty of the sound.

"You know I'd almost forgotten about my nightmares. Yes, I think I'll be fine now. Thank you."

"Not at all. I'll stay here, if you like. In the chair until you're asleep again."

"Do you sleep?" Hermione wondered, teasingly. Her mysterious guardian had been right, talking about her nightmare had helped, she felt much better now, she was able to think a lot clearer. He always seemed to be watching over her. She couldn't imagine when he was getting any rest.

"Now and then. I don't feel comfortable leaving you unprotected for too long."

"But if there are wards on the house, then surely it would be safe?"

"I've never been much for sleeping long. A few hours are all I really need."

"Well, if you change your mind, I would be more than happy to take over protection duty," she replied, a hint of laughter still in her tone.

"I'll keep that in mind." There was a shift on the mattress and Hermione knew that he was moving over to the chair by the door again. She didn't feel much like sleeping any more. Everything she had just seen and experienced was still fresh in her mind but aside from that, she just wanted to keep him, whomever he was, talking.

She liked talking to him.

She knew though, that he wouldn't relax until she was sleeping again, so she settled herself down under the covers once more, resolving to try and get him talking in the morning.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o

As the sun crept up over the horizon the next morning, Draco paced the kitchen, cursing himself for being so careless.

Not only had he almost told Granger everything last night, but he'd allowed himself to soften towards her, to care. He'd wanted more than just to keep her safe from the dangers that threatened her. It seemed almost as if all the years they'd spent hating one another had been erased, at least for him. He didn't feel any of the disgust that used to accompany being in her presence. Despite her being a Muggle-born, despite her being Potter's friend, he'd wanted to soothe her fears and hold her, because…

Well, he wasn't sure exactly why it was, all he knew was that he couldn't allow it to happen again. He needed to be more careful.

She seemed to have bought his story about being a prisoner in the Manor, but who knew how long that would hold? At any moment she could start to question him again, and given that he was incredibly tired and hadn't slept through the night in months, he had no idea how long it would be before he let something else slip, something incriminating.

What he'd told her about only needing a few hours rest to get him through had only been partly true. Ever since the Dark Lord took over his home, he'd only allowed himself a maximum of four hours sleep a night. The situation had been too worrying to let go completely and sleep deeply. But by the time the second prisoner had been placed in the dungeon, the sleeplessness had begun to wear on him. Looney Lovegood's imprisonment in his home had coincided with Draco's waking often from fitful sleep, and now especially, that he was the only one who could guard Granger from the dangers outside the partially destroyed house they'd taken over, he could barely get even that. The slightest noise had him jerking awake and this house had a lot of those, being so old and dilapidated.

When Draco heard Granger calling from the stairs he paused in his pacing. He hadn't told her his name of course. He couldn't give his real name to her but he hadn't told her any name at all. Each morning when she wanted to find him she simply called out 'Hello?', 'Are you there?' and other similar phrases until he responded.

He didn't think he should answer today. He wanted to which frightened him just as the desire to hold her the night before had. His need to call out now was just as desperate. His gut gave an unpleasant tug at the thought. He knew she would worry if he didn't respond, but he felt it would be best if he stayed silent.

Fear was creeping up in her voice as she asked:

"Are you here? Hello? Is…" Draco couldn't stand knowing that he was the reason for the anxiety she was obviously experiencing. His heart clenched as he listened to her shuffle around in the other room. Struggling for a moment with his conscience, weighing up what should be done against what he wanted to do, he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache he knew would seize him at any moment.

"Oh this is ridiculous!" he heard her snap, as he gave in and rushed towards the door just as something he believed to be a Homenun Revelio charm swooped over him.

Granger stood just on the other side of the kitchen door, an expression of extreme relief on her face as he stepped through to the hall.

"Oh thank goodness. I thought… I don't know what I thought, really. I was worried." She babbled.

After all the thinking he had done in the hours since she fell back to sleep, he'd decided he couldn't speak to her anymore. Instead, he simply turned away from her and began preparing a breakfast of eggs and sausages.

"Why aren't you talking?" she demanded, suddenly uneasy. "What's wrong?"

Without pause, he began to make a pot of coffee. It had been simple enough to conjure the necessary cooking utensils, and stealing from the store in a Disillusioned state was easier than expected.

"What did I do?" she asked her voice shaky. He didn't want to look at her, she was clearly upset at his abrupt change in behaviour. But he reminded himself that it was best this way. He was risking both their lives by talking to her, the more she knew the worse things would be for her. Though Granger didn't speak again, she didn't move right away either. Allowing himself a second to glance at her, he saw she was staring at the space he occupied by the old stove, her face stony and defiance in her eyes. Then she turned and hobbled towards the sofa, the wireless under her arm. Once she was sitting she took out her wand and tapped the radio, muttering "Prongs,"

He turned away as the voice of Lee Jordan came in to the house and moved back to the stove to cook.

He'd actually gotten a lot better since the first disastrous batch of porridge. Hoping that a good meal would distract Granger from her mission of unmasking him, Draco set to work.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Hermione crept down the stairs, carefully, gingerly. Though her leg was almost completely healed it still ached at times; she had to be careful not to put her full weight on it. As she reached the hallway leading to the sitting room, she paused, listening.

There was near-silence, broken only by the occasional soft snore. Whomever had been keeping her in the Potter's old house, was asleep.

This was the perfect opportunity to discover who had saved her from the terrible ordeal at Malfoy Manor.

She hated not knowing. It was driving her mad. The first few hours, she thought that it had already, and that, if she were ever found, she'd be moved to that ward in St Mungo's where Neville's parents and Professor Lockhart now lived. It had to be done, she'd decided, in the silence of the house that afternoon.

She needed to know.

Stepping around the corner, Hermione realised she'd left her wand in her room. A ridiculously stupid mistake. It would take too long and too much of her energy to go back and get it, she decided, and continued towards her intended destination. She could just make out the outline of a man asleep in a chair by the empty fireplace. With a sense of monumental purpose, she silently made her way over to the sleeping figure.

With only his silhouette in the moonlight to go on, Hermione could tell her guardian was tall and well-built. In his slack hand rested a dark, unadorned wand. Warily Hermione reached over and plucked the wand from the man's hand. Allowing herself a self-satisfied smile as the wand slid gracefully into her hand, Hermione backed up until she was standing directly in front of her saviour, the man to whom she owed her life.

One spell was all it would take and all her questions would be answered. One word and she would finally see the face of the man who had cared so gently for her over the last two weeks.

Tightening her grip on the smooth wood, Hermione lit the wand tip.

A soft glow illuminated the sleeping figure, and Hermione's eyes widened as she realised who it was. She clapped a hand over her mouth, to stop herself from crying out in shock.

Draco Malfoy was asleep in the chair by the fireplace.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o

TBC


	3. Chapter 2

AN: I hope everyone's enjoying the story so far. just a head's up, there's a sequel that should be up by the end of the week. Let me now what you think of how all this is going.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

She couldn't breathe. She wanted to scream, but that wasn't possible either, it was as if a hand had closed around her throat, constricting her airways and all she could do was stand there and stare.

His presence in this house, particularly, not to mention the gentle way she'd been cared for, caused Hermione so much confusion, she almost dropped the wand she held.

His wand. Draco Malfoy's wand.

_Malfoy…_ There wasn't enough air in the room. _How is this possible?_ How was it that he had healed her injuries, and kept her safe and comforted her when she woke from nightmares? He was evil. He hated her as she did him. He was a Death Eater. Voldemort was living in his house…

His pale blonde hair fell in a curtain across his face and Hermione noticed in the dim light of the wand tip that in sleep, he looked innocent, far from the person she knew him to be. The person she _thought_ she knew he was.

Malfoy shifted in his sleep and Hermione jumped, quickly assuming a fighting stance.

She held the wand –his wand- unsteadily in front of her. The moment he woke, she had to be ready. She may have spent a great deal of time in bed recently, but that wouldn't matter. Hermione still remembered all of her DA training. She knew how to take care of herself.

But why… Why hadn't she needed to protect herself? Why had he been helping her? Showing her kindness? It didn't make any sense.

_You know what you have to do,_ something whispered in her mind, _what they would expect of you. Any other member of the Order who found themselves alone with a defenceless servant of Voldemort's would end that person's life. He's one of them, he was going to kill Dumbledore … he cursed Katie Bell … Ron almost died because of him and that poisoned mead … do it. Do it now!_

But she couldn't move, couldn't utter a word, couldn't do a thing.

For two weeks she had laid bedridden, virtually defenceless, and he had taken care of her. He had held her when she cried, whispering assurances that everything was well. Despite her not being able to see him she had grown to care deeply for the person with whom she shared Harry's first home.

Her recently mended leg gave out beneath her and Hermione crumpled to the floor, giving an unthinking cry of pain, just as, with a start, Draco Malfoy opened his eyes.

"Wha-! Who's… What are you doing?" he demanded, clenching his hand as if tightening his grip on his wand before he realised he didn't have it. He stared at her as she sat awkwardly in front of him, one hand pressed to her throbbing thigh, the other still holding onto his wand.

"What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing?!" Hermione hissed, unable to keep the hurt and betrayal from her voice. "What is this? Why-why have you been keeping me here?"

"You needed to rest after… Someone needed to take care of you and I-"

"You're a Death Eater!" She snarled. "It's almost your fault that I needed taking care of. Or have you forgotten it was your dear Aunt who did these things to me?" Her arm flew out to the side and the wand-light illuminated the scar left there. Without waiting for an answer she continued with her most important question, the one she'd already asked more than any other.

"Where are Harry and Ron? I know you know. Why didn't they take me with them?"

"There wasn't time. They were too far away, please, let me-" he moved as if to get up, to help lift her from the floor, but she brandished his wand threateningly. Her heart thumped madly, like a wild bird frantic to escape from a cage.

"Don't touch me." Hermione shrilled.

Malfoy stepped back, his hands held up in surrender. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm on your side," he told her. "You must know that, I've had ample opportunity… I could have finished you off the first night we got here and they never would have known."

She had to agree that he was right. She had already thought it, but still couldn't understand. Why would Harry and Ron allow Draco Malfoy of all people to take her?

"Why haven't they made contact yet?" Hermione asked, unable to keep her voice from trembling.

"I suppose it's too dangerous. But as soon as you're ready we can set out to find them, if that's what you want."

"You think I want to go tramping up and down the countryside with you?" It was much easier to let her anger take over. Confronting her other confused emotions was just too much to face at the moment.

"I'm on your side!" he repeated, a sort of desperation in his voice she never would have expected to hear. "You don't know what it was like… in that house with… with him. I hated it. Every single second I wanted out." he held his hands out, pleading for her to hear him out.

"But where was I going to go? His followers were in control of Hogwarts, and they would have notified him the moment I turned up there. I couldn't just leave and wander aimlessly like others had done. He would have killed my parents for my betrayal, and I would have been recognised, just as easily as the three of you.

"When they brought you to the Manor…" he continued, his grey eyes clouding over with something she didn't want to identify, "it nearly destroyed me. I thought you were going to save us all, but then…"

"You didn't turn us in," Hermione's voice came out hollowly as she remembered the moment. His hedging, refusal to commit one way or the other to an answer, to even look at them properly. It had seemed like he didn't care at the time, that he wasn't even remotely interested, but now she realised, he was trying to help in a small way.

"Of course I didn't! I wanted you all to get out of there and keep doing whatever it was you'd been doing to defeat him! Anyway, there was a fight and Dobby arrived. And then Bellatrix had a knife to your throat… It was all chaos. But then I had you. Potter and Weasley were on the other side of the room, too far away to reach you before someone killed us. The only option was for me to take you and for Dobby to take them. Weasley almost refused to move when he realised what we were doing, but Potter made him. The wards were down, because they were waiting for… for Him, so, I Apparated us here, and I started doing what I could to heal your injuries and… Well, you know the rest."

"I don't understand how Harry could have just let you-"

"He didn't have a choice. I swore to him that I would protect you; he knew I meant it, somehow. I don't quite understand either, but he trusted me enough to leave you with me." Malfoy's eyes were boring into Hermione's. She couldn't look away from the liquid smoke. He looked… shattered, broken, as if she had just taken the last wisp of hope he possessed and destroyed it. "Haven't I done what I said? Haven't I kept you safe and helped you mend?"

"Yes… But it- I don't…" Hermione suddenly realised she had tears in her eyes. Her stupid, traitorous eyes. She released a slow calming breathe, trying in vain to blink away the evidence that she felt anything about this new turn of events. "I need to think. I need to be alone."

"Do you want me to-" he gestured towards her, as if to help her up, as she still sat on the floor but she shook her head violently.

"Stay there," she ordered, wiping her nose roughly on her sleeve. Seeing how upset she was Draco gave a solemn nod, his eyebrows knitted together in concern. Slowly, with shaking limbs, she pushed herself up and stood, still holding his wand. "I'm going to take this with me. I'll leave it outside my room. You're not to come in there, do you understand?"

Draco pursed his lips unhappily. He didn't like the idea of her going and sitting alone in her room. He wanted to explain again, get it right this time and make her see; there hadn't been any other option. But instead of telling her this he nodded his consent.

"Yes."

Hermione stood, staring at him for a few more moments, before finally turning to the door. She only made it half way up the stairs before those stupid idiotic tears began to fall and pain ripped through every part of her, but she wouldn't stop.

Moving blindly upward and then feeling her way along the hall, she reached her bedroom door, dropped Malfoy's wand and shut the door tightly behind her. Scrabbling for her own wand on the bedside table, she locked the door before conjuring a number of deadbolts and padlocks and securing those as well. She finally collapsed on her bed as sobs wracked her body.

She had no idea why she was crying.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Draco heard the door slam followed by a series of clicking sounds. Standing in the middle of the sitting room, in the predawn grey light, he fought hard to get his breathing under control.

This was not supposed to happen. This had not been a part of the plan.

_What plan?_ A voice in his head asked, sourly. _There never was a plan, not beyond getting her out of that house. _That was true –try as he might, Draco had never been able to think of what to do in all the days they had shared this house. The only thing he'd focused on was getting her well and making sure they went undetected by the wizarding community that lived just beyond the garden gate.

Now, despite his best efforts, she knew who he was, and even though she'd left the room without saying much, he could tell she was upset. A growl of frustration rode the crest of guilt and self-loathing that boiled up inside of him and Draco sank into the sofa.

_There's nothing I can do about that now,_ he told himself, wearily massaging his temples, to ease some of the tension there. _I'll just have to try and talk her around later, explain myself properly. Once she's had some time to think over everything and she's seen sense she'll be fine._

Draco wasn't sure he really believed that, but he couldn't let himself dwell on it too long. The night before –before he'd said more than he should, before Granger's nightmare, when they'd been eating a particularly tasteless broth filled out with dandelions- they had listened to a broadcast of Potterwatch and overheard that Death Eaters were moving in on Godric's Hollow. Draco needed to double the protection on the boundaries, and he wanted to get into the village to see exactly what they would be dealing with.

Scribbling a note for Granger he carried it upstairs and slipped it under her door, taking his wand in return and leaving the house, Disillusioned once more.

Hermione felt betrayed. She felt as if she'd been the victim of a cruel joke and that she was the only one who wasn't in on it. Harry knew who she was with. Ron too. Malfoy had said, Ron almost refused to go without her, he'd probably been terrified that she would be killed the moment they left.

But she hadn't been. She was alone with the Malfoy's and Bellatrix. How was it possible that she had gotten out of that house alive? Was Malfoy being genuine when he told her that he'd hated it there, that he'd felt like a prisoner too? Or was that all just a tale he'd concocted to stop her asking too many questions?

It felt so stupid to be crying over this. Over Malfoy. But she couldn't help it. For two weeks she had been living in a house with someone she had spent years hating, but she had found herself growing to trust that same person, to care for them. Even…

"Shut up you foolish girl!" she snapped at herself, swiping angrily at her cheeks. "Just-just shut up." She forced all thoughts from her mind and turned to stare out the small window that overlooked the back garden. Something was moving out there, something that shimmered slightly. Idly, Hermione imagined that was Malfoy, Disillusioned, catching the rays of the early morning sun.

Turning away from the window, not wanting to see even his possible outline, she noticed a note on the floor. Resigning herself to having to read it, she picked it up and gingerly lay back on her bed, beginning to read.

_Granger,_

_I wanted to tell you the truth, but I thought you'd blame me for everything that happened that night. And I was right, wasn't I? You feel it was my fault, even though I've done my best to repair the damage that my Aunt did to you._

That was underlined, _my Aunt_, he seemed to want to distance himself as much as possible from her torture.

But he had been there. He'd listened to her screams and pleading and he'd done nothing to stop it. Hermione stared at a tearstain that had fallen on to the parchment. Wiping it away, she read on.

_I'll stay away from you as best I can, but I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. Not yet. You aren't up to traveling yet, and I promised Potter I would take care of you. Until we can find him, we won't be separating. We'll just have to learn to live with one another until we find a way to get to him._

_I'll give you your space, but I'm not leaving._

_Malfoy._

Crumpling the note up, Hermione threw it across the room. She couldn't stop herself from thinking now; six years' worth of memories flooding through her mind. All the taunts he had tossed her way, all the nasty looks, and the terrible things he had done… Then she remembered something else. It wasn't exactly kind, but he'd done something once before, that could in some ways be construed as helpful.

"_Hadn't you better be hurrying along now? You wouldn't like _her_ spotted would you?" _Like everything he said to her, his remark at the Quidditch World Cup sounded like an insult, but then he explained, _"Granger, they're after _Muggles,_ D'you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air? Because if you do hang round…"_

He'd warned her to hide. Even back then, when they hated each other and Voldemort's return was nothing more than an idea. He'd warned her… and of course there was the gentle way he had taken care of her recently, nursing her back to health, soothing her when she couldn't shake the memories of her torture.

Suddenly she realised what had happened that night, when she'd brushed his arm. She had touched the Dark Mark. Voldemort would have been furious that Harry had gotten away, and that Malfoy had left as well. She knew from her research, that he used his own Dark Mark to call his followers to him, and when they ignored the call, it continued to burn until they gave in. He would have done this after their escape.

That simple, accidental touch would have caused him absolute agony. She had offered to heal the 'cut' with her essence of dittany and…

"Downstairs," Hermione breathed. "The bag,"

Racing downstairs, she searched the sitting room and then the kitchen until she found her beaded bag, on a chair at the kitchen table. Riffling through it, her arm swallowed up to the elbow, she felt the spines of dozens of books, scraps of clothing and several glass bottles. While she couldn't be certain that everything was in there, she breathed a sigh of relief that the bag was still in her possession, but at the same time, wished that the boys had it. They would need it more than her if they were continuing to hunt down Horcruxes.

With a sinking feeling, Hermione realised she would have to work with her enemy if she was to get back to her friends and help them finish what they'd started.

She hated the idea of having to face Malfoy again, but couldn't think of a way around it.

o.o.o.o.o.o

For the next three days, the pair barely spoke. Refusing to remain in the same room as Malfoy longer than was necessary, Hermione spent a great deal of time in her room, pouring over the books she'd pulled from inside her tiny handbag.

Malfoy on the other hand, spent as much time as he could, outside the house. At night, when they sat down to bland meals, he would relay whatever information he had gathered from the local village, while she in turn would tell him of any developments on Potterwatch. Their responses to each other's questions were always short, her tone typically indifferent, while he was obviously just trying not to antagonise her. This was something new for them, as that was what their entire relationship had been built on for years.

Almost a week after discovering who he was, Hermione sat in the garden, with the radio by her side, tapping at it every now and then, trying to bring the only honest program into focus, while Malfoy wandered about the property checking the boundaries. She had told him repeatedly that it wasn't necessary, that the wards would remain as long as they didn't say You-Know-Who's name, but he insisted on going out to check each day. Watching out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Malfoy standing amid the wreckage of what had once been a broom shed, his wand held aloft.

Sweat beaded on his furrowed brow as his lips moved soundlessly in an incantation. Hermione stiffened, her breathe catching in her throat, as his ashen wand suddenly slashed downwards. No matter how often she reminded herself that she was safe now, she couldn't stop her nerves setting on edge at the slightest noise, or quick movement, memories of the Manor, always at the forefront of her mind. Hermione could feel grey eyes on her and quickly shifted her gaze away, starting to tune the radio again, and eager for an excuse to avoid the worried gaze aimed at her. Listening carefully through the static, Hermione strained to understand the voice that was coming into focus.

"-great pleasure that we announce the addition of another member of our organisation," Fred was saying from the radio. "Our youngest one by far, little Bear came in to the world just hours ago and his father, Romulus tells us at Potterwatch that both mother and child are doing well."

Hermione squealed with delight at the news, recognising the code name of her former professor. Tonks and Lupin had had their baby.

"There is still no news on the whereabouts of Perdita, friend to all of us here at Potterwatch-"

"What?" Malfoy's voice floated towards her, his tone sharp as he came over from his walk, alerted by the noise she'd made. "Granger? What's happened?" Hermione waved a hand to shush him, wanting to hear the rest of what Fred had to say.

"-She was last known to be traveling with Potter, but we've received word that they were separated a few weeks ago. If you can hear this Perdita, please, let us know you're all right, everyone's very concerned."

"Are they talking about you?"

"Quiet!" Hermione hissed.

"That's all we have for now. Tune in next time with the password 'Baby Bear' and in the meantime, stay safe, look out for one another and support Potter!"

The radio went dead and Hermione turned towards Malfoy, a grin splitting her face.

"Tonks had her baby!"

"Did she?" his interest was piqued slightly, she could tell. He wasn't nearly as happy about it as she was but still, he seemed pleased. Or perhaps he was putting it on to appease her. It still unnerved her that he did that sort of thing, but she couldn't think of a way to make him just be Malfoy again. Pushing that aside, she continued to explain.

"Yes. A boy. And everyone's looking for me. I need to get word to Harry or to the Order somehow!"

"Well how are you going to manage that? We don't have an owl, and even if we did, it'd probably be intercepted, wouldn't it?"

"I know." She didn't need to be reminded how precarious the channels of communication were, that he insisted on doing so was yet another thing about him that irritated her. "But I have to think of something, it- Of course!"

"What?"

"I can send my Patronus." Hermione said breathlessly, her cheeks flushing with anticipation.

"You can?" Malfoy looked sceptical.

"Well I can try. I can send it to Shell Cottage. Bill can tell the rest of the Order, and they'll get word to Harry and Ron." Hermione muttered, her mind working furiously on her new plan. "Maybe I should practice first though. I could send it from my bedroom down to you. If that works, we can try for a longer distance, say, out here into the garden."

"Are you up to that?" there was concern on his face and in his voice, but she brushed it aside along with everything else about him that puzzled her.

"I can only try, can't I? I've barely done any magic since we've been here, I'll have to start somewhere."

"Well alright, but you should start small."

"I want to do it now. Come inside. I'll go up to my room and you stay in the sitting room." She decided, ignoring the look on his face.

Two minutes later, an otter soared out of Hermione's wand and swam through the air in front of her. Eyes shining with elation, she watched as her Patronus glowed brighter still with her uplifting spirits.

"Tell Draco Malfoy, 'all is fine on this end.'" Hermione instructed carefully, and the otter floated out of the room. Moments later, she heard a noise from the living room and felt certain that her Patronus had reached its target. Making her way down the stairs again, as quickly as she could, Hermione couldn't help grinning as she re-entered the room.

"Did it work?" she asked. "Did it reach you?"

"Yes."

"And it spoke, the message was clear?"

"Crystal," Malfoy replied curtly, moving towards the door. Hermione stood in the doorway, her excitement faltering at the darkening expression on her companion's face.

"What's the matter then?"

"Nothing. I want to check the back garden again."

"Malfoy, what-"

"See If you can do anything with those mushrooms, won't you? Maybe some soup," he added, before closing the door sharply.

Hermione stood, staring at the door he had just gone through, perplexed. Everything had been fine when she went up the stairs, what could possibly have happened in the last five minutes to cause such an abrupt change in his mood?

o.o.o.o.o.o

TBC


	4. Chapter 3

Frustrated at Malfoy for not speaking to her any more than was absolutely necessary (and carefully avoiding the fact that she had acted in much the same way when she first learned his true identity) Hermione decided to corner him in the kitchen a few nights later.

They took turns making dinner each night, tonight was his turn. As he was distracted, trying to pluck a chicken he'd stolen from a nearby yard, she felt now was the perfect time to have it out with him.

"Dinner shouldn't be too long, once I finish with these bloody feathers," He called over his shoulder, brushing a stray feather from his otherwise immaculate robes, eyeing the offending plume with distaste. "Are you sure you don't know of a spell that can do this for me?"

"What's the matter with you?" Hermione demanded, standing in the doorway, her arms crossed. Malfoy raised one eyebrow, questioningly, brushing his silvery bangs out of his eyes agitatedly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Why have you been acting like such a spoilt child? Hermione elaborated, before realising that as the only child of fairly well-off pureblood parents, Draco would have received everything he ever asked for.

"I'm not acting like anything," he shot back, before returning to the chicken.

"Ever since I started practising my Patronus you've been cold and distant and I want to know why." Malfoy flinched at the mention of the Patronus and Hermione knew she had him. So that _was_ the issue. Now she just needed to know why.

"I didn't think it was a good idea that's all."

"Fine. You didn't think I should make contact. Putting that aside, why, after nothing bad happened once I sent it, didn't things return to normal? Once you realised I hadn't put us in danger, why couldn't we just go back to the way things were?" Malfoy turned away, his steely gaze piercing the chicken on the counter rather than meeting her eyes.

"We're not friends, Granger." He replied after a few moments of silence. Despite the fact that Hermione knew they weren't now, nor had they ever been friends, his saying so sounded far harsher than she would have expected. "Whatever's happened here doesn't change that. I'm merely doing what I told Potter I would."

"I never said-"

"And I don't like rodents!" he snapped, unexpectedly, tossing the naked chicken aside to it landed in the sink.

"You don't…" Hermione stood, staring at Malfoy's back as he clenched his hands into fists, desperate to make sense of the random outburst. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't feel like eating. You can finish this if you-"

Hermione raised her wand and aimed for Draco's legs as he started to cross the room. "Colloshoo!" his feet stuck fast to the floor immediately, he overbalanced and fell with a disgruntled sound to the ground.

"How dare you-"

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on," she cut him off mid-growl.

From his place on the floor, Malfoy glared before raising his own wand and crying, "Locomotor Wibbly!"

Hermione fell to the floor as her legs turned to jelly. Now on an equal level, she glared back at him and sent a Bat-Bogey Hex his way, which he managed to dodge by flattening himself against the floor. Malfoy sent a Silencing Charm at her, but she avoided it by sending a Shield Charm up between the two of them.

"Explain." She demanded from one side of the Shield while he glowered on the other, trying to stand, his feet remaining glued.

"I don't like rodents," was all he said, his tone cold, eyes narrowed in anger.

"Yes, you already said that, but I don't know what you-"

"I thought you were supposed to be the smartest in our year." Draco taunted and for the first time since discovering whom her mysterious saviour was, Hermione saw a shadow of the boy she'd grown up hating, the one who made life hardest for her in the castle.

Before she spoke again, Hermione ran his sentence through her mind trying to find the important information. Rodents seemed to be it. Rodents… Her Patronus was an otter, a member of the same family as the weasel… Weasley. It was Ron Draco had a problem with. That much she already knew from their years of schooling together, but what did it have to do- Suddenly she had an idea, ridiculous as it was.

"Y-you're _jealous_," she breathed, as he fought off her curse and managed to unstick one foot. A triumphant look shining through his anger, before her words registered and he looked at her, appalled.

"Don't be so-"

"We were getting along fine. Not fantastically, but all right. Then I cast my Patronus –an otter- and you completely shut down. You're jealous because my Patronus-"

"What do I care if you're in love with the Weasel?"

"I'm not-"

"I don't care!" Malfoy roared, his face contorted into a mask of such rage, she scrambled to her feet, frightened, as he wrenched his other foot free from the floor. Her attention diverted, Hermione's Shield fell away.

"Get out of my way," he demanded, looking down at her angrily. Hermione couldn't move. She was blocking the door, but, despite no longer being cursed, she couldn't budge.

"Move." Malfoy seethed, aiming his wand at her again. Hermione stumbled to the side and he pushed past her out of the room, leaving her even more confused than before.

_o.o.o.o.o.o_

_Bloody brilliant. _Draco thought, pacing the garden in the thickening darkness. Snow crunched underfoot as he glared all around, half-mad with the desire for someone to stumble upon him so he could take the full extent of his fury on them. _Fantastic. You did a really good job of keeping your mouth shut you stupid git,_ he berated himself.

This was not supposed to happen. This was unacceptable. It was one thing for Granger to know who he was, but this… A roar of frustration tore the air and he blasted a bush a few feet away to vent some of his anger. It burst into bright orange flames and an owl flew out of a nearby tree with an indignant hoot.

Granger was right of course. He knew she was right. And the worst part was, that after the way he'd reacted, she would know it now as well.

As much as he wished he could just pass his irritation at the otter off as dislike for Weasley he knew. After weeks of only Granger as company, of having nothing to do in the long hours of the night but sit and think, he knew that he was in fact jealous that her Patronus took the form of something so closely related to a weasel. And the way she'd reacted to the redhead being attacked in her nightmares…

As much as it pained him to even just think the words, he hated that she was in love with Ronald Weasley. Because-

"Shut up!" he snapped at himself, kicking a rock and watching it fly a few feet in the air before he blasted it as well and watched a shower of dust rain down to the ground. "Just shut up you stupid…" he muttered a string of foul words, all directed towards himself as he continued to stomp through the dark garden.

o.o.o.o.o.o

Hermione retreated to her room as soon as the front door slammed. She also bolted the locks, something she hadn't felt the need to do in days. Tonight, however, with all the curses fired throughout the kitchen she just knew she wouldn't sleep without the protection of a few locks.

Something told her she wouldn't get any sleep, regardless, and she felt sure that was true. Everything that had just been said had left her so hopelessly confused that there wasn't a chance she'd be able to shut her mind off properly.

Draco hadn't said that she'd guessed correctly. But what other answer was there? His unwilling confession didn't mean anything, of course. It couldn't. But…

And when he said that she was in love with Ron, her answer had come far too quickly for her to even think about, but she knew it was the right one. She wasn't in love with Ron. He was her best friend, but that was all.

Maybe she'd been a little jealous the year before when he was constantly attached to Lavender Brown, but that didn't have anything to do with her feelings for him being anything more than platonic. It was only because he'd been so annoyingly wrapped up in the other girl and didn't have time for anything that didn't include her.

Hermione wasn't in love with Ron. The idea was positively laughable. Although, so was what she'd said to Malfoy. That he would be jealous of Ron, what had she been thinking? That was such a ridiculous thing to say.

"Oh I want to go home," Hermione moaned, aching for her best friends, her parents, Hogwarts, and for so many faces she wasn't sure she'd see again.

Laying on her bed she entered into a fitful rest, not quite a sleep, but close enough that she was able to experience something like a dream, in which she saw all of those she missed, just out of reach, Draco Malfoy standing between her and all the ones she held dear, refusing to let her by.

o.o.o.o.o.o

In the days following the kitchen duel, the snow began to melt and the nights grew warmer, but the atmosphere inside the house remained decidedly frosty. Not a word was spoken by either resident. The only voices to be heard came from the radio, revelling in small triumphs, or listing more deaths.

When the truce finally came, it was completely unexpected.

Late in the afternoon Hermione was picking berries off a bush near the edge of the property, close to the barrier that separated their home from the rest of the world, when she heard footsteps approaching from the direction of the house. Not feeling like another argument, she chose not to acknowledge Malfoy, even as his shadow fell across her and made her task near impossible.

"I'm sorry," he said after a few moments.

Hermione had picked all the berries but she was continuing to search the branches, rather than giving in and turning around.

"I shouldn't… I shouldn't have acted the way that I did. It's just… he's not here. The Weas- Weasley, I mean. He wasn't the one taking care of you. I was. I suppose a part of me…"

He mumbled something she couldn't understand, but sounded like the word 'gratitude'.

"If Ron could have been the one nursing me back to health, he would have been," Hermione replied, relenting to face him when it was obvious Draco was waiting for a response. "Because we're friends and he cares for me the way that I do him. Just because my Patronus… Just because you took care of me these last weeks, doesn't wipe clean the last few years. You can't possibly expect my Patronus to reflect some aspect of this… this new relationship, after so short a time, when, before now you've been nothing but awful to me."

"I don't expect- Look Granger-" Looking decidedly uncomfortable, Draco cleared his throat. "This is all very strange to me, all right? Being here with you of all people, having to protect myself, cook, pick up after myself… I've never done any of this before. I don't know when I'll be able to go home, if I even _have_ a home to go back to," Draco sighed, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he steeled himself for what he had to say next. "But I'm sorry that I snapped at you. You must realise, though, that this is a very tense time."

Hermione was reminded of something he'd said earlier, about how his parents would be killed for his betrayal. She felt an instant flare of pity. It hadn't been easy for her to abandon her parents, but she'd done her best to ensure they would be safe. Draco hadn't had that option. He hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye. She understood how heartbreaking it was to leave, all the while not knowing. Still, he needed to know he wasn't the only one with something –someone- to lose. He wasn't alone in worrying over the days to come.

"Of course I know that this isn't easy. I've spent most of the last year trying to avoid being captured and killed, camping in remote areas and searching for-" Hermione cut herself off her eyes wide. Desperately hoping he wouldn't notice her mistake, she hurriedly turned back to the blackberry bush and busied herself looking between the bare branches again.

Bewildered at the turn in conversation, Draco blinked and latched onto her last words, dropping down to her side.

"Searching for what? What is it that Potter and Weasley are doing? What are they looking for? Does it have to do why Bella thought you'd been in her vault?"

Hermione bowed her head silently; ashamed that she had almost told the secret she was forbidden to share. They'd promised. They weren't to tell anyone. Her heart thumped wildly as she felt his grey eyes searching her face. She couldn't look at him. It would be too easy for him to draw out the information if she did.

Crouched beside her, Draco leaned forward. He could sense he was on the verge of something important. "Come on Granger, you can tell me," he cajoled. "You have to tell me. I risked my neck to get you out of that place."

He wanted to be gentle about this, to coax the information out carefully, but it was difficult to hold back from just demanding she tell him. She had information, very important information, and he felt entitled. Amazingly, it seemed that for once, Hermione Granger was at a complete loss for words.

"I know you did," she replied after a few beats of silence. "And I… I will be forever grateful. But it's not up to me to tell you, it's Harry's-"

"Well he isn't here either, is he? It's just you and me, you're the only one who can tell me. It's something to stop You-Know-Who, obviously. What is it?" Hermione hesitated further and as he waited, a realisation hit him. "You still don't trust me. You think as soon as I know the plan I'll run back to the Dark Lord and tell about what you've been up to? Haven't I proven myself to you yet?" A look of hurt and anger flashed across his face as Draco's eyebrows knitted together and he suddenly ripped back his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, burning brightly on his forearm. "I left without permission. I didn't answer his call. When he catches up to me he's going to kill me. Don't you realise that at this very moment my parents could be dead because I developed a conscience?"

"Keep your voice down," Hermione warned, looking around nervously. No one had noticed them at the Potter's cottage so far, but she wasn't one to tempt fate. "Let's go inside." she sighed, running a hand through her hair wearily. "I'll explain the situation as best I can."

Malfoy looked mildly surprised to hear that, but trooped around to the front of the house nonetheless, as if he thought if he said another word, she would change her mind again.

"Horcruxes." Hermione said, sitting across from him in the sitting room. The blank expression facing her was entirely expected. Nervously, Hermione continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's- well, it's Dark Magic. Quite advanced. What it means is that You-Know-Who split his soul into several pieces and hid those pieces in objects that had a great significance to him. Then he hid the objects in places that also were important."

"How-"

"Shh!" His voice had been far louder than she'd expected. And even though they were alone, with a warning system in place, should anyone else enter the house, Hermione was still extremely nervous about what she had to say.

"But how did he do that? Split his soul? Why?"" Draco hissed urgently, bringing his own voice down to match hers. He was stunned by this news.

"He did it by killing. The more important the murder, the more powerful the Horcrux. He wanted immortality, because he's afraid of death. And with these fragments of his soul hidden around the world… he'll live forever." Draco moaned, dropping his head into his hands, but Hermione continued on rapidly. "Harry's already destroyed two, and Dumbledore did another before he died. I'm certain Harry and Ron would have continued their search, even without me. They'd better have. I think there must be something hidden in Bellatrix's vault, and that's why she reacted the way she did at the Manor. We don't know what the other Horcrux's are, but we believed they were connected to the other Hogwarts founder's, as there were two that once belonged to Slytherin.

"And once they've all been destroyed, these…"

"Horcruxes."

"-Horcruxes," he repeated, wanting to catch up, to understand. "Then the Dark Lord can be killed?"

"That's what Dumbledore believed."

"Well good." Draco nodded, murmuring to himself, a dark, menacing look on his face. "The sooner we're rid of him the better."

"You surprise me," Hermione told him. "For as long as I've known you it's been all 'pureblood this' and 'the Dark Lord that.' What happened to change your mind?"

"He happened." A wry smile played at Draco's lips as he answered. His eyes however were utterly devoid of any and all humour. "He came back and… it was only ever an idea, you understand? A story my parents told me. They always put a spin on it to make Muggleborns sound vile and evil stealing from those of us that were of pure blood. But then _he _came back and it wasn't like that any more. People started to disappear, orders were given," Draco swallowed, before continuing on doggedly. "And I was forced to watch murders in my own home, before being told to kill my headmaster."

Hermione felt sick to her stomach. She knew most of this, the way that many pure-blood families thought, and how things had been when Voldemort first returned, but she'd never stopped to really think about what it was like for those in the same house as him.

Before she could say anything, Draco was continuing, finally free to spew out all that he'd been withholding for so long.

"That whole year I was a mess. I didn't know what to do. The Dark Lord said… he said he would kill my parents if I failed, and I did fail. Somehow he let them live, but who knows how long that lasted? He could have ended them the moment he arrived that night. Watching Dumbledore die… I wanted to die." Draco's voice cracked as he looked at Hermione, almost pleadingly, desperate for her to understand. She watched as he forced himself to continue with great effort.** "**I'd never really liked the man, never agreed with his beliefs. But he was supposed to be the one to stop You-Know-Who. When he died, I lost all hope. That was one of the worst nights of my life. But then Potter disappeared and you, and I knew what you were doing. I knew you were working at a way to bring him down. And when she was torturing you… Merlin, I wanted it to be over then! I wanted to _die_. More than any moment in my entire life, those were the worst. I couldn't stand the sounds you were making, your screams... but I couldn't do anything to stop them either. I'm sorry. So, so sorry that I didn't step in. I wish there was a way that I could…"

Hermione wanted desperately to console Draco. Tp tell heim that he'd more than made up for it, getting her away from there, and taking care of her in the weeks since. But she couldn't speak. A lump had formed in her throat when she saw the first tears glistening in his eyes. Talking about Dumbledore seemed to be his breaking point, he couldn't stop the emotion that came over him as he recounted the most horrifying year of his pampered existence.

"And when I saw your Patronus," he continued, looking into her eyes, unashamed –or possibly unaware- of the tears in his own, she felt certain her own eyes would be wet, but she was numb to it. "You were right, I was jealous. Stupidly so, but I was. Anyone who has ever looked at you and Weasley could see it. That you were going to end up together. I had thought it myself, it was a perfect match. As Aunt Bella would say, '_a blood-traitor's just as bad as a mudblood.'_

The word seemed to cause Draco pain, as if there were knives attached, slashing at his throat, but Hermione didn't even flinch. For whatever reason, having the foul word carved into her skin seemed to lessen its effect. That wouldn't make Bellatrix happy, Hermione thought wryly.

"You and Weasley have always been so close," Draco continued, unable to keep the envy and sadness out of his voice. "All three of you have, annoyingly so. If it wasn't going to be Weasley it would be Potter. And why not? He's the champion of the Wizarding world, and you… you're one of the smartest people I've ever known. It would make perfect sense. But somehow while we've been here –you'll think me completely insane for saying this, but I've got to get it out- things have changed. For me, something has changed. And when I saw your Patronus, I hated it."

"My Patronus… It doesn't mean anything." Hermione whispered, finally locating her voice. "Ron is important to me, but not like… not in that way. I've never felt like that about him."

"But you at least have positive feelings for him. You care for him,"

"Draco, are you telling me," it felt entirely natural to use his given name. It was the first time Hermione had ever done so, but it just rolled off her tongue as if she'd been saying it for years. "Are you saying that you… that you have feelings-"

"I don't know!" Draco stood up so suddenly that Hermione jumped. He grabbed a fistful of his hair and began pacing the room. "I'm not sure what- but it's different. I don't know what any of this means, but I know that I feel differently."

Unable to speak, Hermione sat, staring at the boy pacing back and forth in front of her. His face was pink with emotion and there were the faintest of tear tracks down his cheeks. He looked like something completely new to her, as if she had never seen any incarnation of him before this moment. She realised then, as she watched him move with grace and precision, even in his agitated state, that he was just a boy. He was her age and he had been forced to watch and do horrific things. Just like Harry, he never had a choice in any of it. She and Ron at least were able to choose to join the fight, but those two boys were thrust into it all against their will, through circumstances of their births.

Then, just as suddenly as he had moved, she did too, stepping in front of him and forcing him to stop barely an inch from her. His chest was heaving and every time he fought for a breath, they came closer and closer to touching as he stared at her, mystified.

"What are you-"

"Shhh. Just, I just want to see…" and then she was leaning forward, bridging the gap between them and pressing her lips to his.

His hands were on her instantly. One cupped her cheek, while the other gripped her shoulder, almost vice-like, but she didn't object. In that moment she wanted him to hold her as tightly as he was able. She in turn, lifted her hands until she reached his hair, and sunk her fingers into the silvery blonde locks that were just a little too long. She could taste the tears, whether they were his or her own she couldn't tell, but their saltiness mingled in with the kiss all the same.

When he pushed her away, she couldn't help the whimper that escaped as she stared at him, her eyes wide.

"What- what was that? Why… What were you thinking?" he demanded, his breathing laboured, his hands buried deep within his pockets.

"I…" she couldn't articulate the words. For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger didn't have an answer when called on. "I don't-" she shook her head and took a step forward, reaching for him again, but he retreated further back. "Draco-"

"Don't," he warned, stepping around the couch so there was something between them.

"But I-"

"You don't know what you're saying. What you're doing You should… You should go rest and-"

"I don't need rest! I'm not delusional. My mind is perfectly sound. I kissed you because-"

"I need to go-"

"Colloportus!" Hermione aimed her wand at the front door and locked it. She then shifted the couch so that, instead of being between them, it blocked the door to the kitchen, trapping them in the room together. "You're not running away again. You've been doing it for weeks. I understand it now, you've been out there, 'checking the boundaries', to avoid being in the same room as me, but I won't let it continue."

"You can't—"

"That's finished with. The avoidance and the silences. It's done. We've got to sort this out. There's a war going on and we can't afford to be distracted by—"

"No matter what you say… what I tell you now, I'll be distracted. If we fight, _when_ we fight, I-I won't be able to keep my mind on it. I'll be desperate to know where you are at all times and if you're all right. I can't talk about this with you. That- that cannot happen again. What I need to do now is work on forgetting. I need to remove you from my mind altogether, because unless I do that… he'll find me and before he kills me he will use you against me."

"I would never-"

"He would hurt you to get to me. He would kill you and he would force me to watch. I know it. It's the worst thing he could do to me now. It's what… it's what I would do if I were him."

"But you're not!" Hermione insisted, just as desperate for him to understand as he was for her to. "You're a good person Draco. You've proved that! Why won't you let me-"

"I can't! Don't you see? I can't let you in any more than this. I never should have let it get to this point, because when I lose-" Draco cut himself off and turned away. Hermione expected him to move the sofa out of the way, or simply climb over it, but he only stood with his back to her, fighting to get his breathing under control.

"When you lose me?" Hermione finished, gently, taking a small step forward. "Do you think, once this is over, and we're allowed to go back to our lives that I'll just pretend that nothing ever happened here? That you didn't save my life and comfort me when my nightmares chased me here? Do you really think I'll just forget all that's gone on here? I've been fighting this too, like you, I thought it might be some symptom of hero worship, or some such nonsense. But that's not it at all. I've resisted it, but I can't do that now. I-"

"Please don't say it," Draco begged, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Don't say any more." He looked weak. Exhausted. More so than he had in all the time they'd been there, sharing James and Lily Potter's home. Hermione wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in her arms and convince him to let her be the protector for once while he slept, but he wouldn't allow that, not until he knew.

"I'm falling in love with you." She told him. She didn't raise her voice. She just spoke, knowing that the words would reach him no matter how hard he tried not to hear them.

Everything seemed to leave Draco then. The resistance, the denial. He looked as if he was folding in on himself. His eyes were closed and his head fell so that his chin hit his chest. Then, with all the fight gone, something else took him over and his face became a mask of pure contentment.

"I already fell." He replied, his head still bowed and his eyes closed as she crossed towards him and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. Draco didn't resist that time as Hermione lifted herself onto her toes and pressed her lips to his once more.

o.o.o.o.o.o

Later that evening they lay in front of the fireplace on a pile of the blankets Draco had conjured their first night there. The radio tuned to a wizarding station and the Weird Sisters singing 'Do the Hippogriff.'

"What's the matter with us?" Draco asked, his fingers caught in Hermione's thick brown curls as she leaned her head on his chest, her eyes closed.

"You grew up with the idea that people like me were inferior, being ingrained in your mind. And when we met, I thought you were a pompous git. This was always going to be the only way we'd ever have an opportunity to change our minds," Hermione replied with the air of someone who'd thought on the subject a great deal.

"And what do you think will happen? When we get back to the real world? I mean, provided that we survive what's coming…"

"We'll survive it. I have no intentions of losing-"

"We here at Potterwatch have heard a very odd, very exciting rumour." Lee Jordan was speaking from within the radio, cutting short the song that had been playing. Hermione sat up, her eyes glued to the wireless. "Our sources say there was a break-in at Gringotts bank earlier today."

"What?" Hermione gasped, as Draco moved beside her.

"One of the high security vaults, way deep within the depths of the bank was the target it seems, though which one it was, is yet unknown."

"It's them," Hermione whispered. She knew it. It just had to be.

"Of course everyone will know who was responsible for this severe security breach. Our very own Undesirable Number One. Who knows what the hell he was after in there? But I can tell you that not long after he and his companions were detected within the vault, a very large, dragon-shaped shadow was seen flying over London and off towards the countryside."

"They took a dragon?" Draco repeated the word, disbelieving, as if he were testing out the taste of it.

"Seems like something he'd do. I'm sure many of you remember the illegal flight of a Ford Anglia back in '92." Lee added, and there was a chuckle from someone on his end. "That's all we've got for now. Password for next time will be 'goblin'-"

Hermione turned the volume down and turned to the blonde boy beside her, her face alight with pleasure.

"They got another Horcrux, didn't they?" Draco asked, hopeful.

"They must have. Oh that was so stupid of them, going in there! What were they thinking?"

"That they want this to end just as much as the rest of us. They'll want you back of course," he added matter-of-factly. He knew now that if she were taken from him he'd do everything in his power to find her again, and it had only been a little over a week that he'd accepted that he cared for her. The two boys that had broken into the bank had depended on her presence for years. "They probably think defeating him will be the only way for that to happen."

Harry and Ron were probably in great danger. More than they had been before. The Ministry wouldn't stand for this –breaking into Gringott's releasing a dragon- surely efforts to capture them would be increased. And Voldemort would be doubly angry. With that in mind, Hermione suddenly felt very little desire to celebrate, though a part of her was still thrilled that they'd managed it.

"That's four. Another two and He won't be any more than a powerful wizard. It's almost over." Hermione was so happy it took her a few moments to realise Draco didn't share her feelings of merriment. "What? What is it?"

"Nothing. I-"

"You're still thinking I'll change my mind, aren't you? You think when we get back and I see the way my friends look at you I'll realise that I hate you and I never want to see you again?" He flinched at the word _hate _and Hermione grabbed his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. "I _love_ you Draco!" she insisted.

"You say that now, but, when you're with them… they'll get in your head and-"

"-They will respect my decision. I love those boys, but they are not the bosses of me. I decide what I want and who I want to be with, not them. They won't be happy at first. I know that. But Harry at least saw something in you that made him think you could be trusted. Ron will come around eventually and anyone else…" Hermione shook her head, as if to dismiss the rest of the world. "I've made my decision, and unless you're trying to tell me you've changed your mind-"

"Of course not!" Draco sputtered, his grey eyes widening in surprise. Hermione allowed herself a small smile.

"Good. It's settled then. We-"

"Urgent message to all members of the resistance to the Chief Death Eater. Any supporters of Potter who are able to fight should get themselves to the Hog's Head as soon as possible." Lee's voice was trembling with emotion. "It's time people! We fight _tonight_. His tyrannical reign on our society ends tonight, Merlin-willing. I repeat, get to Hogsmeade now. The curfew's still intact, so Apparate directly into the bar -the Hog's Head. Aberforth will get you where you need to go from there. It's show time."

Lee's latest announcement came and went so quickly that Hermione and Draco had barely even turned away from one another and to the radio before he stopped shouting and disappeared from the airwaves once more.

"Tonight," Draco repeated, listlessly.

"We have to go!" Hermione announced, jumping into action. "We need to get there. Now!"

"Wait-"

"We don't have _time_ to wait, Draco! Weren't you listening? It's happening now! We need to get-" Draco crushed his lips against hers, cutting off the rest of her frenzied speech. When they broke apart, Hermione was smiling at him blissfully. Draco tucked a piece of hair behind her ear tenderly.

"Now we can go," he breathed, as he wrapped his arms around her in a protective embrace. "As long as you promise me when it's over you'll be back in my arms, just like this." Hermione smiled, closing her eyes briefly and savouring the moment. With Draco by her side, she felt invincible.

"Of course I will." She replied, her warm brown eyes looking up at his cool grey ones with such gentle love, Draco's heart ached at the thought of leaving her side during the impending battle. Though a selfish part of his mind screamed for him to stay right there and protect Hermione always, a larger, better part knew that he must fight. They both had to fight, not just for their possible future together, but for the entire world, both theirs and the Muggles. For all the lives that had been lost and ruined in this war and the last, and those that stood to join them because of the Dark Lord's rule.

He knew that he had to fight in order to right all of his previous wrongs. For Albus Dumbledore and all the others he had seen murdered for Voldemort's cause.

Burying his face in Hermione's hair, Draco drank in her scent one last time, committing it to memory. He would be brave and selfless for her sake. He would fight, not only for the freedom of their people, but to be worthy to stand beside her. After victory, maybe then he could become a man Hermione deserved, one she could be proud of. Draco pulled away from her, his face set with a new determination.

"What are we waiting for then?" Draco asked briskly, standing quickly and helping Hermione to her feet. Running from the room, Hermione snatched up her beaded bag and a traveling cloak she had procured during the month in Godric's Hollow, before racing back downstairs to where Draco stood waiting at the door.

Together they walked quickly through the darkness, silent as they approached the spot on which they would be able to Apparate. And then, holding tight to one another, they vanished.

o.o.o.o.o.o.

This is it people. One more chapter, and then the sequel. Is it strange that I had the sequel completed before this? It's been sitting here, demanding attention for quite a while now. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

o.o.o.o.o.o

TBC


	5. Epilogue

AN: This is it. Last chapter. I hope everyone's enjoyed this, as well as the original, "Redemption" if you haven't checked that out yet, get on it! Thank you to those who reviewed, favourited and followed. And especially thank you to Emeraldbuttercup for allowing me to write this, and for all the help along the way, (I'm so sorry it took so long to get it on here.)

o.o.o.o.o.o

The Room of Requirement was filled with chatter when they arrived through the tunnel from the Hog's Head. However, everyone fell silent within seconds of their entrance. Hermione smiled shakily, the crowd of people in front of her after a month of isolation intimidating her slightly. Draco stood stoically next to her, his expression unreadable.

A hand snaked out of the crowd and grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the throng and away from Draco before she could do anything to stop it. Stumbling slightly, Hermione looked up to find herself standing beside a mutinous looking Ron.

"Ron!" Hermione squeaked, her earlier hesitation evaporating. "Oh, it's so good to see you!" She threw her arms around him as conversations resumed within the Room. Hermione found herself hugging Harry, Luna, Neville and so many people, all of which she hadn't been sure she'd ever see again. Turning to look for Draco, she found him skulking by the portrait-hole, trying to go unnoticed by the large collection of Dumbledore's Army members. He was doing a terrible job of it.

"What are you doing here?" a voice demanded as more people clambered in. Ginny was glaring at Draco with all the hatred she could muster. Hermione pulled away from Padma Patil to face the youngest Weasley.

"Ginny, Draco's on our side. He-"

"Draco?" Fred repeated, frowning at Hermione. Hermione frowned back, but continued.

"Yes. Draco. He rescued me from… well, from a terrible ordeal and he's been keeping me safe ever since. He's on our side now. He wants You-Know-Who gone just as much as we do. And anyone who has a problem with him being here, well, we'll have to address it later, won't we? Because right now we have a war to finish."

Silence followed this speech before Harry stepped forward once more. Instead of hugging Hermione again, he held a hand out to Draco.

"Thank you," He said his voice thick with emotion.

"Uh, of course," Draco replied, slightly surprised. What was more shocking was the next moment when Ron stepped forward and did the same. Everyone seemed confused by what was going on, but Hermione felt it was high time they got back on track.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked Harry as she reached for Draco's hand. She didn't notice the shocked looks on her best friend's faces, she was so focused on the goal.

"There's one more Horcrux we have to find, and then it's just the snake and the cup we got from Bellatrix's vault." Harry explained.

"So it's true you broke into Gringotts?" Hermione asked, raising an assessing eyebrow. Harry nodded, smiling weakly. Hermione snorted in response. "Well, we'll talk about your incredible stupidity later," she announced. "Any ideas on how we're going to destroy the remaining Horcruxes?"

"None so far, but we'll work that out. We have to." Harry then turned to address the room at large and ask if anyone knew of an object that had once belonged to Ravenclaw. With Luna, offering to take him to see the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw wearing her diadem, Harry left the Room. Ron once again turned on Hermione.

"What's this then?" he demanded, indicating hers and Draco's joined hands.

"Oh Ron, now really isn't the time to discuss it. Please, just… let's just get on with this and I'll explain everything later, okay?"

"Has he hurt you?" Ron continued, undeterred.

"Ronald Weasley!"

"I'm serious, Hermione. He just Apparates out of there with my best friend, I don't hear from you in almost a month and now you're standing here holding his ruddy hand. I want to know what the bloody hell is going on. Has he hurt you? Are you Imperiused or something?"

"Well if I was Imperiused I wouldn't very well admit it, would I? And probably wouldn't be here, but outside with the Death Eaters preparing to fight against you. No. Draco has not hurt me. He took wonderful care of me. Please, just trust me when I tell you, he is on our side! Now if you'll put aside your petty fight just for the moment, there's a war going on here. Let's get on with it."

Ron turned to Draco at her side, stabbing a finger in the air threateningly.

"If I find out that you touched one hair on her head…" he growled, but left the threat hanging. Draco brushed his silvery bangs out of his face, eying Ron distastefully, but refused to say a word. If Hermione wanted this dealt with later, that's what he planned to do.

"Shut up Ron!" Ginny snapped, elbowing him out of the way. "It's so good to see you Hermione." She added sweetly.

"You too,"

There was a great flurry of activity as Neville caught those who'd been absent from the school up on all they'd missed. Ginny then helped fill Ron and Hermione in on all that had gone on with the Weasley family.

And then it was time to get going.

o.o.o.o.o.o

The battle raged on all sides. Curses flew from all directions. The best part about Draco's lengthy absence and sudden return meant that many of the Death Eaters weren't aware that he wasn't fighting with them, but against them, as, it seemed his parents, and even the Dark Lord had refused to admit to his defection. The worst part was that most people who were against Voldemort also weren't aware of the switch in allegiance. Draco was certain the only thing that saved him was having Hermione, one of the Weasley's, or Longbottom close by at most times.

But then Draco lost track of them all. He was alone, and facing those he had once called allies. He watched the murder of his cousin in a horrified state, unable to do a thing to stop it. They'd never met, but he knew Nymphadora Tonks by sight and reputation. He was helpless to intervene when Bellatrix sent a fatal curse at her. Draco felt her death as a crushing blow of his own. Tonks was newly married, had just had a baby. She was a friend of Hermione's. It shouldn't have been like that for her.

Every scream frightened him and every flash of green filled him with a great anxiety. Where was Hermione? He wondered. Was she all right? Would he see her alive again? Draco tried his best to put the worst thoughts from his mind as he continued to duel one Death Eater after another.

o.o.o.o.o.o

The looks on his parent's faces couldn't be more different. His father was a mess -clearly repulsed by the company his son chose, Lucius couldn't hide the fear he so obviously felt at having his son oppose Voldemort.

Narcissa on the other hand didn't look even a bit afraid, but cold, impassive. She had always been stronger than her husband. She was braver, able to hide her feelings better than him. All Draco could read from her eyes was relief at finding him alive.

Voldemort stood, his eyes on the crowd, waiting for them to make a decision. They had lost, after all. Now was the time to choose the winning side or die.

"Draco…" Lucius hissed urgently. "Draco, don't be stupid…"

"Draco. Come." Narcissa ordered, confident in her belief that her son would do 'the right thing'.

All around him were the survivors. The ones who had fought and made it out alive. Longbottom stood at the very front; the youngest Weasley and her father close by. Draco could see Hermione in the group just beyond those three -the remaining Weasley's- a gash on her forehead and ash caking her sweater, but otherwise, she looked unharmed. She had made it through one of the bloodiest wizarding wars, his clever girl. Draco felt pride swell in his chest, knowing that she had defended herself against all odds.

But it was all in vain. The Dark Lord had won.

In front of them, at Voldemort's feet, Potter lay limply on the ground.

Dead.

Draco could feel her brown eyes on him, and a shiver ran up his spine. He looked back at her. Hermione was staring at him as everyone stood silently, waiting for his response.

The poor girl looked petrified.

Even after all they had been through together, she was still unsure of him. He'd nearly died a hundred times on this night. His idiot of a former accomplice had set fire to the Room of Hidden Things and he'd almost perished in there alongside the buffoon, while trying to get her out, yet still she didn't know…

He looked towards his parents before taking a few steps forward. Already trying to hold back tears at the tremendous losses she had been dealt, Hermione couldn't hold back a sob as he began to move. But then Draco was at her side, his tall figure towering over her protectively. Hermione looked up at him, her eyes wide, unsure and swimming with tears. Despite the promises they had made in the moments before leaving Godric's Hollow, Draco felt certain he wouldn't be returning to that happy place they'd so recently shared, where she was carefully wrapped up in his arms.

Deciding to take whatever moments he had left to him, he set about proving, one last time, just how much he truly loved her.

Cupping Hermione's face in his hand, he gave her a private smile, which she returned timidly. His thumb caressed her cheek, wiping away a stray tear with uncharacteristic tenderness and as she leaned into his touch, Hermione searched his face as if it held all the answers. Draco leaned forward until his lips rested next to her ear.

"All I want is to be with you. To stay by your side and keep you safe as the world comes crashing down around us. If I could make it happen by my will alone, we'd be back in that cottage, living out the rest of our days, away from all this, never bothered by the outside world. But I…" his voice cracked with emotion and he broke off, unable to say what he feared most and instead chose a different track. "Whatever happens now, I'll always be with you, Hermione. I will not leave you, not ever. If ever you need me, all you have to do is think of the cottage. That's where I'll be waiting for you, that's where I'll always love you. Always." He added in a whisper, his breathe warm on her neck.

"Always, yes," Hermione whispered in return, tears running down her face freely now. Every part of her trembled and he wished there was more time in which he could calm her. "I'll never doubt…"

"You won't ever have a reason. I'll never leave you. Remember that, no matter what happens now," he told her before forcing himself to step back. More than anything, he wanted to kiss her. But if he were to give in to that desire he didn't think he could stop, and there was one more thing he needed to do.

Turning to face his parents, loathing in his eyes, Draco held Hermione's hand in his, giving him courage to speak.

"I'm sorry Mother, Father." He spoke louder, his voice stronger than he felt. Everything he'd said to Hermione could only have been heard by one or two of the Weasley's, but their attention was divided between the dead boy on the ground in front of them and the one inside the castle. Speaking now, so that everyone gathered could head, he added, "I told you already. I've chosen my side."

Lucius looked as if he was going to be sick, but Narcissa's expression never changed, save for a slight paling of her complexion.  
Voldemort looked like he could kill again.

For a moment Draco thought he'd made a mistake –a monumental one- showing affection for Hermione. For a moment, he thought that Voldemort would truly use his feelings for her against him, make him watch as he tortured her, and took her from him, before destroying him as well.

But then he smiled. A truly horrific sight.

"Ah, young love… How sweet. Isn't it just divine, friends? That even in these trying times, these two were able to find a way past their differences and admit to their true feelings?"

No one made a sound. No one dared - despite his tone they knew their leader was furious.

"I commend you Draco. Despite her… less than desirable heritage, by all accounts Miss Granger is a worthy match for someone like yourself," Beside him, at the sound of her name, Hermione stiffened. Draco gave her hand a squeeze, not taking his eyes off the wizard before them. "Alas, it seems I've lost the boy for good. Well? Does anyone else wish to make any declarations?"

For a moment nothing happened, then, Longbottom began to limp forward, and a collective gasp moved throughout the group. He spoke, far more confidently than Draco had ever heard him do in all the years they'd been acquainted, his words seeming to bolster those gathered around him. They were still hurting due to their many losses, but he was right, of course. As Draco had just tried to tell Hermione, even though the ones they loved were gone, they would remain with them, and the ones left behind wouldn't allow them to have died in vain.

When he refused to join the other side, a furious Voldemort forced the old, mildewed Sorting Hat onto his head and set it aflame.

Many things happened then. From a distant boundary of the school came the uproar of hundreds of people, while a giant appeared, followed by a heard of centaurs.

And Potter simply vanished.

Chaos reigned as the centaurs aimed arrows at Voldemort's giants who were also fending off attacks from leathery bird-like creatures and what looked like a Hippogriff. Longbottom shook off the body-bind curse and the Hat, and from within it he withdrew a great gleaming sword, Draco recognised it from the night in the Manor that was so long ago -Gryffindor's. And with it, he sliced off the head of Voldemort's snake.

Forced to flee into the castle to escape the giants and the winged creatures, every one of them ran, Death Eaters and Hogwartsians alike. It seemed their numbers were thinning ever so slightly as Death Eaters fell victim to curses that came from nowhere.

Once again curses flew all around as duels took place between twos and threes. Professor's Slughorn and McGonagall fought against Voldemort, with Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Mrs Weasley duelled with Bellatrix, murder in both women's eyes. Draco felt a hand on his arm and whirled around to fight it off, but saw no one.

"It's me," Potter's voice came from nowhere.

"Wha-"

"The Elder Wand. You control it, you're master. You were the one who disarmed Dumbledore, not Snape." he explained in a hurried whisper. "It's yours, but I need it. It's the only way to defeat Voldemort, and that has to be me. I need-"

"It's yours. Take it. Whatever you need to do. I… I give you the Elder-"

"I have to disarm you."

"Do it." Draco nodded.

"Expeliarmus." Potter's voice seemed thin, as he cast the spell, it sounded as if there was next to none of the usual power behind one of his spells, but Draco's blackthorn wand flew out of his hand regardless.

"Thanks. That's all I need, I think."

Accepting his wand back, Draco heard a faint rustle of fabric.

And then, right by Voldemort and the duelling professors, Potter appeared from thin air. Cries of relief filled the air, people yelled his name; despite the continued fighting there was renewed hope.

Everyone moved back, away from the two as they circled the room, keeping an equal distance all the time. Draco fought his way through to Hermione's side, gripping her hand so tight once he found her, he thought he might never be able to let go, and together they watched as Potter kept Voldemort talking, distracting him.

On and on they circled, Voldemort looking angrier and angrier that someone had clearly lied to him. And in the same moment they yelled their spells, a bang like a cannon blast rent the air. The jets of green and red met in the air, dead centre of the circle they'd been treading, and the wand in Voldemort's hand -the Elder wand- flew up into the air, away from him, until Potter was able to jump and snatch it with the unnerving skill of a Seeker.

And Voldemort fell. He hit the ground with a mundane finality, killed by his own rebounding curse.

Silence fell over the hall as every person froze, staring at the last to duel. Then there was screaming, cheering, crying from all sides.

Rushing forward, to join the throng surrounding the Boy Who Lived, the beacon of hope in the fight against Voldemort, Draco threw himself in among those who had always been on the right side. He knew that he still had a lot of work to do, to convince everyone of where his loyalties truly lay, but he felt it would be easy, compared to all the things he'd already done. He felt that anything was possible as long as he had Hermione with him.

o.o.o.o.o.o

For days afterwards, Harry was busy consoling those who had lost family and friends; hearing about those who had been Imperiused returning to themselves up and down the country; and ensuring Azkaban released the innocent, while the guilty took their places.

When he found time away from those who wanted to share their stories with him, he chose to spend it with those to whom he was closest.

As Hermione refused to be without Draco, he was at those times subjected to interrogations from Harry and even Neville. Ron was with his family, all of them dealing with their grief at having lost Fred.

"You have to understand that I didn't know who he was," Hermione told them. "When my feelings first started to develop, I had no idea who it was they were developing for, all I knew was that this man had been kind and caring and had rescued me from certain death. Believe me, when I realised that it was Draco I wanted to pretend that I'd never felt anything at all, I tried to ignore it, but that was impossible," she explained. "I couldn't stop myself loving him any more than he could me."

Happy with their explanations, Harry let the matter drop. Shortly after the funerals and memorial ceremonies were over, court proceedings began, and it was largely thanks to Harry that Draco managed to avoid a life sentence.

Mrs Weasley was overheard saying to Professor McGonagall that she was pleased that love had been able to blossom, in such a trying time.

Knowing they would still face obstacles in their future together, Hermione and Draco chose, for the moment to ignore them. Instead, once they were free to go, all the questions answered and names cleared, they returned to the Potter's cottage for a few more days alone.

It was there that Draco confided in Hermione that the burning in his forearm had finally stopped. The pain that persisted since early April was gone the instant Voldemort had been defeated. Just a glance at the Mark told them that while it would probably always remain there -a mere shadow of what it once was, as the reason for it to be there was gone for good- the Mark would eventually fade.

After doing their best to return the cottage to the state in which they found it, Hermione asked Draco to accompany her to Australia to find her parents.

Even after the month of living within each other's pockets they had no desire to be apart, and set out together to bring the Granger's home, knowing that everything would be all right as long as they had one another.

FIN


End file.
